Sunday, January 26, 2014

The Tiger Unleashed: Can I Control It?

I can feel it.

The rage.
The aggression.
The fire.

It courses through my veins like a tiger unleashed.

And it is very hard to control.

The snow is hard, yet soft.
The snow is firm, yet edge-able.
The temperature is cold, but not too damn cold.
And the grooming is just perfect.

For one thing,
And one thing only.

I take my first turn,
And rock back on my tails.
My skis shoot out from underneath me
And ride the rails around the turn.
I bring my hips forward
And i can feel my weight transition itself
as my skis swing beneath me.

And it begins again.
And again.
And again.


Throwing my skis away from me
And then pulling them back in.

I launch over the lip,
Trusting the groomers have matched their seams,
And feel the compression of the next turn as I absorb the drop.


The next few turns comes smooth and luscious.
There is no give in the snow and my edge hold strong.
I take more chances,
I throw my skis further,
My edge angles get higher,

I give in to my turns.
I give in to the rush.
I give in to the power.

I surrender to my skis
And to the mountain.

I aM Lost.
Lost in a world of aggression of my own making.

I can feel my breathing get heavy,
My hip stretching as i sink lower into my turns.
The fleshy sides of my feet begin to burn
And in spite of the bitter single digit temps,
I am warm as a day in hell.

My nostrils are flaring,
My chest pumps up and down,
I swing a big obnoxious arc right at the midstation
...and my eyes flicker open.

Where is everybody?
Was I skiing in a group?
Who was I even skiing with?
Were we even going to the midstation?

I have no idea,
i know nothing,
Only the feeling of my skis
flying back and forth underneath me
as I bang out slalom turns


Too late,
I remember why I hung up my racing skis.

I am a bitch.

The power,
The strength,
The aggression.
It goes straight to my head.

And I can't control it.

It is the worst kind of ski drug.
It takes over every breathe in my body,
My hearts beats intune with my turns

The intensity is too much
and I am lost.

Why is it possible
to love the feel of something
so much
that everything else
falls away
And nothing else

Not friends,
Or family,
Or even ski buddies.



The tiger is unleashed.

May the Mountain Have Mercy on my Soul.

1 comment:

  1. Pretty and powerful......just like you and your skiing. Great read.